Under the Branches

They first saw her when she was but a toddler. A little babe walking around on chubby feet, face full and round. They never thought much beyond her joy in each of their shed branches. The Forest watched her grow, her years fast compared to their slow reach toward the sun. The Forest saw many people for the Forest was one being with many names, and yet they were many all connected. They felt their roots stretching beyond sight and thought, felt the pains of death, and the birth that came from the decomposing bodies. The Forest admired her love for their bodies. They watched her draw many of their trunks in a book made from their pulp. And still, the Forest did not think much of her, until the day she came to their dark canopy seeking change.

For when she left, she was not a she, but a he. And, he was beautiful. The Forest loved him. He understood the pain of sloughing off the old and growing to accept the new. The danger of holding too tight to dead branches, and the wonder found in the warmth of the sun. The Forest made sure that the Wind gave him the perfect breeze. They shaded him from harsh sunlight, but always allowed the gentle rays. For many years he walked in their shadows, each time an experience for the soul. The days between each visit did not phase the Forest, for Time was not something that fretted them, but one day he disappeared for many seasons.

The Forest became sad. Some unseen branches wilted and they shed a few leaves earlier than was normal, but as with all things Time danced them on. The Forest grew, and with their growth they kept an eye for him. In a small park, where the Forest had some fingers, he returned hand in hand with another man. The second man never reaching the beauty of the first, and, still, the Forest loved them both. For if he loved the man, then they would.

The couple moved through life the same way they did through the Forest, slowly but with intent. He drew and painted, and the man sang, read, and talked. The Forest grew to love the sound of the man’s voice. It was a melody they begged the Wind not to interrupt. Even though Time would not slow for them, the Forest gave them reprieve in shadows of a mighty oak, a bundle of birch, or grove of cypress.

He and the man travelled. They saw the Forest on many different lands, and cherished each version. In return, the Forest did the same. They watched the two of them grow. Age beginning to gray their hair, wrinkle their skin, slow their bodies. And, one day, the man came back without him. The man travelled deep into the Forest, and found the spot “she” became “he.” There the man took a container from inside their bag and poured out the ashes of a body long gone. The Forest felt the essence of him. Felt the loss of his body, his mind, his love. The man leaned against one of their trunks. Tears falling from the man’s face. The Forest felt the man’s loss, and knew the world was lesser without him in it.

The Wind stirred the ash from the base of the trunk, and the Forest caught them in each crevasse of their bark, and vein of their leaves. They took him, and carefully reconstructed him from their sap. They covered his body with leaves and branches. When he was finished, they watered him with the tears of the man, and he found life. He stretched. His hands golden from sap. A rainbow of leaves fluttered on his arms and legs. The Wind laughing. He blinked his amber eyes, and stared at the man. For a moment, they beheld each other at a distance, but within a breath they were wrapped in each other’s arms.

“You’re magnificent.” The man cried, holding him tightly.

He opened his mouth to talk, but only the rustle of leaves came out. The Forest knew no language, but still they bent to his affections. The Forest twisted around the two of them, creating a cozy shadow that let them stay in each others comfort.

When the man left, he stayed behind. He rested inside the warmth of the Forest’s bark, fed high above the canopy, and travelled great distances through the roots that connected the Forest to every land. The man would return, and he and the man would spend time in the gentle caress of the sun, the playful feel of the Wind, or rest in the cool edge of the shade.

“My beloved, I am old. My body aches. These visits are difficult and the world moves much faster than I can. Without you, I feel lost, but here I am comforted.” The man stretched his body and settled in the grass, “I want to stay here. We can be together.”

He placed a hand on one of the Forest’s trunks. The Forest knew that the man would bring comfort to him, and together they could protect each other. The Forest released some branches and crafted from the man’s body a new being. One built of sap and leaves. The man and him embraced. Many years pass, the Forest and it’s beloveds protect the growth of the trees. Together they build more of the Forest, and welcome new companions to their group. Dryads, the people call them, but the Forest only calls them friends.